By Your Side
by This Rhythm
Summary: Sequel to Kaleidoscope Hearts. "He feels her fingers run through his hair, as a mother would with her child, and Bruce wonders if she knows he's sad despite all she's given him." It takes some time to heal. But you still heal. Bat/Cat.


**A/N: This is a faux-sequel for Kaleidoscope Hearts, meaning it can be read BY ITSELF or as a continuation of KH. I really didn't want to do a sequel, but my mind was running crazy and I didn't know what to do with it. You'll find this is much more centered, and I've added some bits in Bruce's POV.**

**For those who haven't read KH, basically Selina and Bruce travel and learn little tib bits of one another. And then they end up in Paris. If you're reading this as a sequel, then I would say this takes place in the last few paragraphs of KH.**

**I use some French in here, so if it's wrong in anyway I'm terribly sorry. :) **

**This is Rated T for language, sad thoughts and limeade. **

**Pardon me for any mistakes. If you see any, kindly let me know. And always reviews, in any shape or form, are appreciated.**

* * *

"_That was the thing about the world: it wasn't that things were harder than you thought they were going to be, it was that they were hard in ways that you didn't expect."_

_Lev Grossman, __The Magician King_

Selina's been learning how to cook from Julia Child. Cliché? Yes. Fun? Sure. Fulfilling? Of course.

Today she's making soufflés and baked salmon, praying Bruce isn't secretly allergic to salmon of all fishes. She would have made some fancy French dessert, but decided on making classic American brownies. She'll drizzle some caramel over it just to look nice.

It's Bruce's birthday today and she wants everything to be perfect. Oddly enough, ever since she and Bruce have been together almost everything just falls into place. No one is around to turn up the oven to high or throw the cheese out the window. It all works out. Just like the food she's cooking, and it makes things a wee bit better.

Currently Bruce is sleeping, something he's been doing for a while now, but Selina doesn't mind. He usually hovers over her as she's cooking, and although he's trying to learn it ends up bothering the heck out of her. Also, he's terrible at all things kitchen related, minus chopping the vegetables part. She feels pretty bad when she shoos him out of the kitchen, but when Selina's doing a job she needs her peace and quiet. It tends to get easier when there's one less person to deal with.

The food is finished, so she washes up and heads to the bathroom, dabbing on a little bit of makeup here and there. She quietly walks into the bedroom and grabs her dress. Selina finds it weird to change clothes right in front of someone (even if they are sleeping), so she turns her back at Bruce. She's about to pull the dress over her arms when she hears a faint "I like you better with nothing on."

Selina can't help but smile. "I can't give the neighbors a peep show, you know." The dress has yet to move past her arms.

"You do know what the purpose of curtains is, right?" Warm, strong arms encircle her, and she jolts. Bruce nuzzles her neck and she sighs. He grabs the dress and tosses it to the side. "I'm starving."

She smacks his arms away and turns around. "You're the one wasting time. The food's ready." She picks up her dress and quickly pulls it over her head. "You can see me naked later."

Bruce's eyes light up, his eyebrows rising as he childishly asks, "You promise?"

"It's your birthday, isn't it?"

* * *

Thankfully, the food turned out exactly as Julia told her it would. She and Bruce are sitting on the couch watching episodes from Doctor Who, all of the ones with Weeping Angels. Selina thought about putting "Doomsday" on, but the whole Rose/Doctor thing seemed a bit cheesy. She opted for scary episodes mainly because it's more fun. Well, Bruce doesn't get scared but, you know, there are literally _thousands_ of baby angels floating everywhere in Paris. It gets you thinking.

They haven't eaten the brownies yet since they were so full after dinner. It's been about forty-five minutes though, so it shouldn't be an issue. Selina gets up and retrieves the brownies, taking a piece out to the side so Bruce won't munch on it. He had a nasty habit of eating all the sugary stuff, even sweet and condensed milk.

As Selina walks back into the living room with the plate, Bruce's attention deviates from the TV and focuses on his treat. He smiles and says, "They smell delicious." His hands reach out to grab one, but Selina swipes the plate away.

"You have to make a wish first."

His eyebrows furrow. "Is this supposed to be my cake?" he questions with a grin.

She rolls her eyes. She didn't have time to make a fancy cake. As far as Selina's concerned, it's a darn good "cake". Shoving the plate at his face, she says, "Just make a wish." Bruce dramatically closes his eyes. He blows over the brownies and cracks his eyes open. "Happy?"

Selina smirks. "It's not a matter of my happiness, Mr. Wayne."

"Touché."

He makes another lunge for the brownies, but Selina has the upper hand tonight and moves them to the side. Bruce has a look annoyance right now and she automatically grins. "As per custom, the birthday boy has to take a slow and savory bite before he can gobble the entire thing down like an animal."

Bruce snorts as she takes a piece from the plate, breaking the brownie in half. Slowly, she straddles Bruce's lap and instantly his eyes become darker, mischievous. Selina takes a small bite out of the piece and brings it up to Bruce's lips. His mouth engulfs the brownie, licking the velvet chocolate and swirling his tongue sensuously around Selina's fingers.

Tonight is going to be a long night.

* * *

The clock reads three in the morning. He feels her fingers run through his hair, as a mother would with her child, and Bruce wonders if she knows he's sad despite all she's given him.

* * *

She and Bruce don't work. They have a lot of money stuffed in their accounts, so slaving over some job isn't what they plan to do. Besides, Parisians are impossibly rude, and considering Selina and Bruce are American, they hate them even more. She's been learning French through Rosetta Stone, but everyone speaks so fast it's impossible to understand what they're saying. But Selina's relentless, and she vows to come up with a witty French comeback one day.

This is the first time in her life she's been able to do what she wants to do. She always wanted to be a photographer, and now Selina's living her dream. She wanders from street to street, snapping photos of buildings mixed in with ancient architecture. For a couple of months, Selina tried to sell her photographs at studios, but quickly realized the curators would take 40 percent – if not more – from her commission. So now, Selina sells her photographs on her own website and has sold a few over Etsy. And she's promptly taken a few pictures back.

There's a gorgeous bar she and Bruce frequently visit. The area is quaint, and she's found herself taking several photos from this place. The bartender, Benoit, is a nice calm man who listens to everyone's problems. And he likes Americans.

She walks inside and drops her purse on the counter, sitting as she does so. "Bonjour, Benoit."

He turns around and smiles, his stomach peeking from underneath his shirt. "Bonjour, Selina! What can I get for you?" Selina's been teaching him English, and she's proud of his achievements.

"Just water." He raises an incredulous eyebrow, and finally Selina succumbs under pressure. "Fine. The usual, I guess." Benoit smiles in victory, and proceeds to take out her favorite red wine.

"How is Henry?" The way Benoit says "Henry" is an odd combination of a French and American accent. Sometimes Selina has no idea whose name he's calling. He hands the drink and leans against the counter.

Selina takes a sip and answers, "Good. It was his birthday yesterday."

"Eh? And you didn't bother telling me?"

"I just made a simple dinner, Benoit. It wasn't a grand affair."

He shrugs. "I like you two. I could have bring some wine, you know."

Now Selina feels kind of bogus for not telling him. Benoit is a friend, weirdly enough, and she's purposely keeping him out of the loop because it's so . . . It's hard to speak with someone after all these years. "How about this: on _samedi _why don't you come over at 7 and have dinner with us? Bring Vivienne over, too."

Benoit's face instantly brightens, and Selina's already thinking of recipes to look at.

* * *

"Benoit is coming over on Saturday," she says as soon as she walks inside. Selina finds Bruce doing some sit-ups in the living room floor, all sweaty and gross.

He pauses and looks at her. "What?"

"I said Benoit is coming over for dinner. So is Vivienne." Selina sits down on the couch and sighs. "This apartment is kind of shitty looking."

Bruce resumes his workout. "You picked all the furniture."

"Yes, well, I've had a change of heart." She's slightly freaking out about the whole thing now. Perhaps the blue and light brown combination wasn't a good idea. Is it Parisian enough? Plus, she's not sure if she wants to invite someone into their lives yet. They've created a nest of some sorts, and while Benoit is completely harmless, it's making her fidgety.

She lies down on the sofa, staring at the off-white ceiling. "Do you think this is a good idea?" In the back of Selina's mind, she's really wondering if it's time for them to let others in.

Bruce stops his workout, breathing loudly. He too is looking up at the ceiling. "I think it's a fantastic idea, Selina."

_OK_, she answers back. _Sounds good._

* * *

The homemade buns burn when Selina left it in the oven for too long. Actually, they're not homemade (more like bought from the market), but they practically are homemade. They just weren't baked in her kitchen.

"I could go get some real quick," offers Bruce. He's impeccably dressed, and unlike Selina he's much more calm than she is. Perhaps he doesn't care as much as she does. "Or I could scratch off the burnt part. It might taste funny, but at least we're not wasting it." He leans against the kitchen counter, waiting for her reply.

Shaking her head, Selina says, "I don't even know why I invited them. It's just a waste of time, if you ask me." She's feeling indifferent and quiet moody now. One by one, she throws the buns away into the trash can, pissed she burnt stupid bread.

"It's dinner, Selina," Bruce says soothingly. "What's the difference between eating at the bar and having Benoit and Vivienne coming over?"

She really wants to say the reason why this is bothering her because she doesn't want to care about someone else. She doesn't want these people to get to know her and Bruce. They would be lying to them (Benoit calls Bruce "Henry" for Pete's sake), and Benoit doesn't deserve their lies. Selina thought having them over would make their lives a little less boring, but it's proving to be more taxing.

"A fairly big difference, Bruce."

"But does it matter?"

Silence envelops them until Selina answers, "Yes."

* * *

Bruce knows if he tells Selina he likes her being domestic and such she would surely throw him against the wall. It's not that he likes seeing Selina as a trophy-wife, but she enjoys making food, baking cupcakes and all sorts of desserts; she's rather good at it. It makes him feel good to see her happy doing the things she loves. He wishes he could do that, too.

It's after dinner, and all four of them are sitting at the table, a second wine bottle almost empty. "So," starts Benoit, "how did you meet?"

Selina and Bruce should have come up with a story before they came. He had a suspicion they would ask this question. Vivienne chimes in, "Yes, I want to know!" Her face is becoming slightly flushed due to the wine. She's very loud when drunk.

Selina fidgets for a second, a movement so tiny no one could've noticed except Bruce, and quickly says, "We met –"

"At a jewelry store, funnily enough." Selina gives him a look mixed with relief and disdain. Bruce extends his legs under the table and relaxes, crafting a lie in his head as he does so. "I was getting a string of pearls fixed, and when I came outside I saw Selina staring at some diamond earrings." He gazes at Selina, and it almost feels like they truly met at a jewelry store, as any normal human being would. "The rest is history."

Vivienne says something in French, her hands in the air and a big grin on her face. Bruce can't help but smile in return. Selina shyly beams down and toys with her wine glass, a small flush appearing on her cheeks. Something Vivienne said must have caused this reaction from her. Benoit seemingly admonishes Vivienne in French, and the two banter back and forth for a few seconds.

As Benoit and Vivienne argue, Selina catches Bruce's eyes. She gives a brief nod and a sly grin, silently telling him _If you weren't Batman and I wasn't a thief, then maybe we would have met a jewelry store._

A wave of sadness washes over him, and he honestly wishes that was the case.

* * *

A pull, tug, suck, gasp, lick, kiss. Sharp, blunt nails dragging over slick skin, a bite on the crook of his shoulder, teeth sinking in. Then, warm fingers trailing over scars, rougher on the smaller ones and softer on the deeper ones, and a slow and steady kiss on the scar near his hip, a gift from Talia. It all feels strangely affectionate, as if she's trying to heal and erase the scars, physically and emotionally.

* * *

Today has been an exceptionally long day. Selina sold about six photographs online, so she had to print them out and find a frame that fit. Needless to say, she was running around Paris much of the day. She walks inside the apartment and finds it completely dark, save for a lamp stuck in the corner of the living room. It's half past eight; Bruce shouldn't be sleeping, right? "Bruce?" she calls out, dumping her materials and purse on the couch. "Are you here?"

No sound can be heard, and for a fleeting second Selina is slightly scared. Her heart starts to pump a little faster, and she walks slowly through the tiny hallway. Her eyes scan and try to find something sharp just in case there's an intruder, and she curses her inability to realize she walked _right past_ the kitchen knives. "Bruce?" Selina calls out one more time.

Not wanting to waste another second, she opens the door to their bedroom and finds him fast asleep, the blanket hardly covering him. Her breathing calms down but she's puzzled: why is he sleeping in so early?

Selina feels bad for waking him up, but she does so anyway. His eyes sluggishly flutter open. She even notices a small amount of drool on the pillow. "Hey sleepyhead," Selina greets while brushing Bruce's hair aside. "Did you eat dinner?"

He yawns and snuggles in even more, grabbing the blanket as he does so. "No."

"Why not? There are some leftovers in the fridge. I wouldn't let you starve, I hope you know that," she responds jokingly.

Bruce smiles sheepishly and quickly glances at his body. "I . . . couldn't Selina, it was proving to be a hard task."

Automatically, she feels shitty for leaving Bruce by himself in the first place, let alone knowing she's the cause for his back pains. She finds his hand and squeezes it. "I'm so sorry Bruce. If I had known I would've –"

Vehemently he says, "Selina, it's not your fault. I'm just tired, that's all. I need to rest." Right on cue, his stomach grumbles. "But if it makes you feel better, I would have gotten up to eat anyway."

She smiles but still feels pretty horrible. "Want me to massage your back? Knee? Entire body?" Bruce shakes his head. "Your loss. Do you still want leftovers, or should I make something else for you?"

"I'm too tired actually. Can I just . . . sleep for now?"

Usually Bruce is up for eating, but today he seems a little _too_ exhausted. In fact, he's been very sleepy these past couple of months. She hopes it isn't a big deal, though. "Oh, OK. Whatever you want. Sleep tight," Selina whispers. She tucks the blanket around him and softly closes the door.

Thirty minutes later Selina's eating dinner all by herself, and it bothers her.

* * *

"I was thinking we should go to the flea market today. It'll be nice to get some trinkets for the place," Selina muses. She's sitting on the bed and about ready to go. Bruce, on the other hand, just got out of the shower and is wearing pajamas.

"Selina, we went shopping last week," he says, clearly exasperated for no apparent reason.

"Correction: it was two weeks ago. We didn't go shopping, we went sight-seeing." She gets up and retrieves her purse, then asks, "Are we going?"

The bed creaks and sure enough, when she turns around Bruce is sitting on the bed, about ready to lie down. "I'm not in the mood today. Maybe tomorrow." He gives a slight nod and an apologetic smile.

This is his fourth time saying no to an outing. Swallowing her frustration, she finally answers, "Alright."

* * *

After every dinner, she and Bruce usually sit on the couch and talk about anything, if they can think of something. It's Selina's favorite time of the day since she learns the most about him. They're like mini dates every time they sit down. And as of late, it's a way for him to stay awake and not go to sleep at eight. "I bet you were the kind of girl who teased a boy for a long time until you realized he had no money in his shoe box," Bruce jokes.

Selina's legs are draped over Bruce's lap, a wine glass up to her lips. She smiles before taking a sip. "What if I did? I had to buy a Nirvana CD one time. Thankfully his shoebox was within easy reach," she muses. "And the best part? He didn't even notice."

Bruce softly laughs and starts rubbing her feet; it feels fantastic. They had a tiny argument a couple days ago over the health "benefits" of wearing heels all the time. Selina claimed they made her look nice and tall, not to mention she was completely used to it. Bruce, of course, made it seem as if she was killing herself. But she would be lying if she said his foot massages weren't the single greatest thing ever.

It's quite for a few minutes until Bruce asks, "What was the first thing you stole?"

She exhales loudly and thinks. "Honestly, I can't remember. When I started out it was to pay for . . ." Selina trails off, feeling a small amount of shame. Then she thinks _Fuck it_ and continues, "I used the money I stole to pay for dinner. I would get my mom some fast food and fries for myself once or twice a week." Her eyes slowly focus on her feet; Bruce squeezes her leg in return. There's no need to hide her underprivileged childhood, he tries to reassure her.

"Did you ever think about running away?" he asks quietly. Selina's told Bruce tid bits of her childhood (mostly how bad it was), so when he asks these questions she feels inclined to answer, even if it may seem too personal. She wants him to know.

It takes her a few tries to get the words out. "Yes. Mom was stuck somewhere in her head, and dad loved Jack more than me." She takes a long swing from her wine glass and adds, "By the time I was seven my father realized I was a flight risk. My mom was already . . . gone by then, so felt he had to keep me on a tight leash.

"The first time I ran away," she starts and gives a weary laugh, "it was only for two hours max, but when I ran out of the door, those first ten seconds were the best day of my life." Selina sighs and readjusts herself on the couch. Bruce is watching her intently. "I was barefoot . . . Just to feel the cold pavement touch my feet was nothing short of amazing. It was pure adrenaline. I was running on instinct, and I will never forget that moment."

Bruce doesn't have any more questions and they soon retire to their heads, thinking of a past filled with so many horrors. Minutes pass, maybe an hour, and Bruce suddenly says, "Me too."

Snapping out her thoughts, Selina asks, "What do you mean?"

"That's one of the reasons why I loved being Batman. It was the adrenaline. It made me feel alive. No amount of training could prepare me for such . . ."

"Happiness?" Selina supplies.

Bruce shakes his head. "No. Purpose."

"And you feel you don't have a purpose to live for anymore?" A certain amount of bitterness comes forth, something she hoped Bruce wouldn't be able to detect. He notices anyway, and to her chagrin he doesn't have a rebuttal.

* * *

Selina's not stupid. She sees everything, down to the little creepy spider crawling on the wall right now. She can spot a man's weight, height, and how well they could fight depending on their physique. Bruce is emotionally depressed, and oddly enough it doesn't surprise her. Well, it does but the fact that she can notice it doesn't surprise her.

At first she thought Bruce was bored and couldn't adjust to the Parisian life, but she quickly figured out he wasn't willing to move on. And it pisses her off.

* * *

The day Bruce tells Selina about Rachel, Paris is raining cats and dogs. The streets are practically flooded, and the sky refuses to let the sun break through. They're both sitting on the couch, Selina's legs held close while Bruce blankly stares at the TV and tells his life story.

"How much did you love her?" she asks quietly, afraid of the answer. She and Bruce haven't said the magic words yet (not that it's big deal. Kind of), and this conversation is driving her insane. To think Bruce Wayne actually loved another human being for her intellect and charm instead of how large her breasts were is mind boggling. But she shouldn't have expected anything less. He's proven himself to be a very complex person.

He sucks the inside of his cheek before answering, "Enough to retire Batman for eight years."

"But," Selina begins, "you would've retired Batman anyway because of the Dent Act." He couldn't have possibly stopped being the Caped Crusader because of her, right?

It takes Bruce a minute to answer. "Yes, if that was how it ended up working out." He sighs and crosses his legs. "But after eight years of brooding, I realized I was holding on to what _could have been_ instead of what _happened_."

Selina's heart is still hammering. "I'm not sure if I follow . . ."

"Well, when Rachel . . . passed away I kept on thinking about my life with her. What it would've been like. It was useless, though, because she was dead anyway. And I had thought, for eight years, she died for me. In some ways she did, but didn't realize she was already gone," explains Bruce. His eyes are looking at his feet now, his jaw set tight. "Alfred found a letter Rachel wrote to me. She said she was leaving me for Harvey Dent. He burned that letter, in hope of sparing me some pain."

Selina internally winces, understanding how devastating it seems. To think someone was willing to give everything up for you, and find it wasn't the case is ridiculous. "So what now?" _Do you still love her_, she asks silently.

It's eerily quiet for a minute. "She didn't die for me. She died for Harvey." He glances up at Selina, his fingers creeping over to her ankle and lightly touching her there. "Perhaps we were never meant to be. But that's alright by me."

Bruce is trying to tell her he cares for her – maybe even loves her – as opposed to loving Rachel. She wants to believe it, but he's still sad and thinks about the past way too often. She doesn't want him to make any promises he can't keep. God knows she's kept up her end of the bargain, by making sure he never ended "empty" again. This time, however, she lets it slide because Selina doesn't know the next time he'll say something like this.

* * *

Their sex life isn't as robust as it used to be. He still obliges when Selina makes a move, but he doesn't always take the initiative. It's been nearly a year and a month since she and Bruce moved to Paris, and one would think they would be banging every few hours. But Bruce is the quiet lover, the one who silently takes it all in, and will do everything to please Selina. He's not one for cheesy one-liners and cheesy dates. In some ways he's a realist romantic, if that makes sense.

Selina knows he's feeling down, and she's trying to help him get out of it. It's proving to be a difficult task, though, because last time she was around a depressed person, they committed suicide. And out of all the people she knew, it was her mother who left Selina alone in the world. She doesn't want that to happen to her again, and Selina will attempt to set everything right. If she can.

See, that was the thing about her. Selina has never been selfish. She just lets people do their own things. She won't jump in the middle of someone else's conversation, or try to be nosy in other people's affairs. If the person is a clumsy motherfucker, then it's their fault. Selina didn't _cause_ them to be clumsy. That's just who they are, and she happens to take advantage of it.

This is where it gets hard: she never cared for those folks. But when her mother died, Selina was absolutely powerless. She's older now and mature, so to see Bruce think about his old life and refusing to see the light kind of makes it her responsibility to make him happier. Not responsibility necessarily, but if she wants to be happy, he needs to be happy likewise. Selina's not sure if she owes Bruce. Maybe she does. In the end she cares for him, damn it.

She's nervous because she's never dressed up, lay down on a bed, and attempt to look as seductive as possible. This situation reminds her of something a housewife would go through; mentally, she laughs thinking _Who would've thought I would try to act like one?_

Selina forced him to go get some groceries so she could prepare for this date. It's half past six, and she can't bring herself to lie on the bed like some whore. If she knew Bruce wasn't being emo and all, maybe she would have been more excited about this. However, this is kind of a make or break situation. If Bruce doesn't give in, then she'll have to use another method, albeit grudgingly.

Candles are lit all over the room; the smell is a strange mix of apple, cinnamon, and some random berries. Agitated, Selina walks over to the window and stares out into the street, watching people live, laugh and love. A while ago she thought she was one of them, but to her dismay she realized she can never truly be free.

But Selina isn't known for being a quitter.

The front door opens, and instantly Selina is anxious all over again. "I'm back," Bruce calls out. She can hear him dump the bags on the table and kick his shoes to the side (something Selina hates). Selina doesn't answer back. He'll get the hint soon enough.

"Selina?" he says. Bruce's footsteps are low and heavy, and with each passing second Selina's heart races. As much as she wants to think of this as a simple con-job, she can't. There's much more at stake.

Bruce enters the room and is clearly a little surprised. Selina turns around and smiles shyly before asking, "Is this too much?"

His eyes rake over her body, which is covered in a soft pink lingerie set and accompanied with black pumps. He swallows thickly and smiles before shoving his hands in his pocket. "No."

Before either of them can second guess, Selina swiftly walks over to him, grabs his head in her hands and kisses him softly. She presses her lips against his, then quickly takes his upper lip, then bottom, and waits for Bruce to respond. Finally, his hands leave his pockets and they languidly swim over her body. And _finally_ he opens his mouth for her, which Selina quickly devours.

She wastes no time plunging her tongue inside and Bruce fights back, something she terribly missed. Soon, she's left breathless and Bruce is peppering her neck with kisses, some rough and others soft. "God, I've missed this," she thinks aloud. She truly has. This is the Bruce she fell in love with. Selina attempts to remove his shirt and he accommodates, letting her pull the fabric over his head. In less than a second their lips crash together, and Selina can't help but smile.

They tumble towards the bed with Selina crushed beneath him, and she runs her hands over Bruce's body. He no longer has the incredibly fit physique as he once did, but he's still lean and strong. Her fingers run over his scars, and she notices him shivering a little. She presses kisses on his neck and the crook of his shoulder, before turning him around and straddling him. Her eyes are fixed on Bruce as her hands quickly creep down below. Swiftly, Selina unbuckles Bruce's pants and rips his zipper. His eyes go wide and he exclaims, "Selina, don–"

Nothing's there. It's just a limp . . . dick in her hand. Well, this is strange. She doesn't know what to do. She's sitting on top of him, her hand crushed in his pants and not moving. Bruce starts to shake his head, clearly flustered and opens his mouth to say something. Removing her hand, she quickly silences him with a bruising kiss, trying to make the situation less awkward. "It's not a big deal." Nibbling on his earlobe Selina whispers, "Tell me what you want." Her hands trap his wrists to the sides of his face and she gazes at him, pleading. "Anything." _Tell me how to fix this, Bruce. _

Bruce looks up at the ceiling, and she can't help but feel incredibly inadequate. He glances back at Selina, his face flaming in embarrassment and frustration. "Selina, I can't . . . I don't think . . ."

Immediately, she releases Bruce and gets off of him, sitting on the bed all uncomfortable. "Bruce, I don't know what's going on. Is it me?" she questions angrily. Honestly, Selina's not sure if it's a combination of her, his past, or just life in general that's causing him to be depressed. It's making her upset and all kinds of irritated.

"Don't you dare think like that for a second," Bruce practically growls. He sits up also, his chest and face glowing under the candlelight. He too appears upset and confused. "It's not you. It's me. I don't know how to explain –"

She's had enough. It isn't just _his_ problem, it's _hers_ also. They live together. They bought furniture together. They might as well get married. And he expects her to just walk away as if nothing has happened? "Shut up. Please." Bruce is taken aback, and he quickly tries to say something else. "Just . . . I don't need to hear this now. I'm going to go wash up."

The bed creaks in protest, and Selina takes her walk of shame to the bathroom. Once shutting the door, Selina doesn't hesitate and turns on the shower, hurriedly throwing her expensive lingerie on the floor and stepping into hot water. She stays there for a long time, watching her skin turn into a big prune, and wishes she could go back and wear her suit, instead of enduring emotional pain and heartache.

* * *

He wants to be happy. Truly, irrevocably happy. And in some ways he is. But there's another part of him stuck in the past, aching to wear his suit, to feel the cold air whip past his face, dwell on Rachel, meet with Fox and talk about the latest innovations, and above all, speak to Alfred.

He hates that he can't move on. Not only was the whole point of Batman was to show the people of Gotham they can survive without him, but it was to give Bruce a second chance at life. He really ought to follow Selina's example; she breathes a new life. She's taken advantage of it. Her steps are lighter, she smiles more often, and he sees Real Selina more often than Burglar Selina.

Selina's been absolutely wonderful to him, he won't deny that. She's been the lover, the girlfriend, someone to argue with, and someone to bond over costumes and secret lives over. He feels like a baby who can't decide what he wants in life. When Bruce is with her, he forgets almost everything. Almost. But then he gets scared of forgetting, so he pushes himself back into the past. The pain and suffering is familiar; it makes him feel like he's going home. Frankly, it's sick and pitiful. Laughing all the time and having someone to wake up next to is something he's craved for years, and he now has that. And he can't move on.

Bruce envies Selina's ability to move away from the past. It doesn't haunt her as much as it haunts him. She's still snippy on occasion and constantly replies in a sarcastic way, but there's a difference now. There isn't a purpose behind it. It's just the way she speaks. Unfortunately for him, he struggles between speaking like Pompous Bruce, Idiot Bruce, and Batman. There's no Real Bruce.

He doesn't know how to act like himself. He doesn't know how to be romantic or a loving boyfriend (or whatever he is to Selina). It's dreadfully confusing; sometimes Bruce feels like his true self is getting out, but then he slips into someone else – maybe Charming Bruce – and it makes him wonder if he really is charming, or is it a secret alias. The fact of the matter is, Bruce has no identity. He's lost. He thought being with Selina would help, but Bruce keeps struggling, trying to maintain his sanity every single day. He's afraid of moving on because it's unfamiliar territory. Bruce has always yearned for it, and regrettably it's proving too difficult.

The truth is, he's afraid. He's afraid of not being able to be himself, and he's afraid of losing Selina to a French Joker or an Albanian Bane. Anytime Bruce had something good in life – like his parents and Rachel – they were stripped away from him. What makes having Selina any different?

Bruce hoped leaving Gotham would be the key, but hope has always been a fickle thing. In the first few hours after his parents died, Bruce had a small fantasy where his parents would walk through the doors, alive and well. And the only other time Bruce ever hoped again was when Rachel said she would wait for him. Of course, neither ever happened and he was pushed back to reality.

Maybe the third time is the charm?

* * *

She's been avoiding him. After last night's events, Selina wants to forget everything that happened. It's embarrassing and awkward. What does one do when they find out their lover isn't physically attracted to them anymore? She shouldn't blame Bruce's lack of performance on his inability to take pleasure from a scantily-clad Selina; after all, since he's been such a downer, his hormones probably didn't realize it was time to get up and going.

Sometimes, Selina has a really great idea – like sending Bruce to a therapist – and realizes it would be useless. She wonders what the shrink would think of Bruce's alter ego, and the entire situation in Gotham. They would surely send him to a mental institution.

Since getting his mojo back on didn't work, Selina's trying a different approach. Selina's living the life, photographing things and selling her pieces online. She's occupied herself with something she loves. Little does Bruce know, when she's outside getting materials she ends up asking people if they're hiring. She looks all over Paris – banks, shops, anywhere. She even considered a strip club. Fancy that.

* * *

"Have you thought about working at the bar with Benoit?"

The question pulls him up short. He stops putting his clothes in the closet, wondering where Selina got the idea from. "Excuse me?" It's been a few days since _the_ incident. He won't deny it was incredibly awkward and usual for both of them. Bruce isn't sure if Selina's angry with him, but he hates how she has to sit back and watch him fuck up his new life.

"You heard me," she shoots back nonchalantly.

Bruce sighs and puts his shirt inside, turning around and staring at Selina. She's lying on the bed, an arm propped on the side, and has an eyebrow raised. "And exactly why would I work there?"

"So you can consume vast amounts of wine and die of alcohol poisoning."

He smiles and sits down on the bed, lightly touching Selina's smooth legs. She's got a bit of a tan now since she's been running around in Paris, doing God knows what. "There's no point in me working with Benoit, at a bar nonetheless."

Rolling her eyes Selina says, "It's something to occupy yourself with. When I leave you're lying in bed, and when I come back you're still in bed."

"That's not true," Bruce responds, slightly hurt.

She scoffs. Bruce notices she's been much more snappy than usual. "The point is, it'll be a nice change to get up and do something." She moves her legs away from him, and his fingers are soon lying all by themselves on the bed.

There's a reason why Selina's bringing this up, and he knows exactly what she's going to say next. In the beginning, he didn't want Selina to know he wasn't feeling as chipper as she was, and no matter how hard he tried to cover it up it wasn't enough. Unfortunately, it's all out in the open now. Bruce sighs again, feeling defeated. "Why would I put myself through that when the whole point . . . was to take a break?"

Selina stands up from the bed, annoyed. "Bruce, you're not 65 and unable to work. You won't be spending 40 or more hours a week trying to make a living, it's just something to take your mind off of things," she grounds out.

"Take my mind off of what?" he challenges. He too stands up, seeing if Selina would dare to spell out the truth.

"Don't play pretend," Selina retorts. A small flush is creeping up the side of her neck, but as usual her breathing is calm and balanced.

He swallows and feigns indifference. "I'll go to Benoit, but I'm not doing this for myself," Bruce murmurs as he leans forward. Selina's jaw is set tight, and she coolly looks back at him. "I want you to know this is all for you."

"We both know it's not _really_ for me," Selina slowly replies. Her eyes harden and she walks away, while his heart drops to his stomach. It pains him to realize she's stuck in the middle of this.

* * *

The clock reads two in the afternoon. The weather is gorgeous outside, and Selina's itching to walk around and smell the air. She steps into the living room and sees Bruce watching some corny French movie. "Want to go for a walk?" She's been trying, unsuccessfully, to get Bruce out of his daze, whether it's working out at the gym or going on little dates in the city. He makes it so difficult, and she constantly feels like she's pulling a bulldozer. Her patience is wearing thin, though.

He shrugs and flips the channel. "Where to?"

Of course Bruce wouldn't care for a walk. He barely talks to her nowadays, and it's taking a toll on her. "In the park, perhaps? We could always stop by a pastry shop, since you love eating those." The windows are open and everything can be heard, from the dogs barking to kids playing in the street.

"Alright," he says tiredly, and doesn't budge an inch from the couch.

Selina waits a good minute. "Do you plan on visiting the park from the sofa or what?" Her voice sounds impatient, something she knows Bruce isn't a fan of.

Slowly, he turns his head and glares at her. "I'll get ready a minute, Selina." The funny thing about his facial expressions is that they never, _ever_ match the tone of his voice. So when Bruce has such a controlled appearance on his face but his voice sounds melancholy, Selina automatically wants to – quite frankly – beat the shit out of him. It's confusing; she doesn't know if Bruce is angry, sad, or both. Annoying enough, he's incapable of effectively displaying his emotions to her.

Dropping her purse on the floor, Selina removes her heels and kicks them to the side. "Forget I asked, Mr. Wayne. I didn't realize you were busy trying to manage a multibillion dollar company, and that can't spare an hour for a walk," she calmly spits out. Bruce stays silent, his eyes fixated on the screen. Selina nearly strides out of the room when she thinks better of it, picks up her purse and slips on her heels, and walks right out of the apartment without Bruce.

This is the first time in a long time she's left like that. And instead of feeling free, she's left feeling incredibly mean and hurt.

* * *

Selina stomps into the bar, but immediately slows her steps when Benoit gives her a stern glare. For a quick second it reminds her of when her dad would get mad, but she knows Benoit would never yell at her. "Something wrong?"

Sighing dramatically Selina replies, "Yes and no. Has Henry been coming here for work?"

"Yes," he answers. "Why you ask?"

"Never mind. He's just been . . . unreliable these days." There's clatter in the back, shortly followed by a yell. Benoit gives a tired eye roll, and she sits down on the stool while he hands her a drink.

"_Pourquoi_?" Benoit leans against the counter, his arms crossed. Selina doesn't want to drop her melodrama on him, but she is pretty desperate.

Taking a nice swing from the glass, Selina adjusts herself on the seat and gives a tired smile to Benoit. "He needs purpose, Benoit." She's extremely frustrated about the whole situation, and the fact that she gives a damn makes her feel out of control. For much of her life she never had to deal with anyone else, and she was absolutely alright with it. There was no other variable in her equation – it was just _her_. But life's handed her a complex series of math problems, and she has no idea how to solve it.

"Why?" Benoit whispers, much more urgent. From the way he's looking at her, it's quite obvious that he understands the situation. How he knows, Selina has no clue.

She glances up at him, then back down at her glass of whiskey. "He's not happy."

He scoffs and annoyingly asks again, "Why?"

Slamming her hand on the counter Selina angrily responds, "I have no fucking idea, alright! I've done everything, Benoit." Her anger is quickly replaced by sadness and helplessness, and her voice falters for a small second. "I have given _everything_ – and I mean everything – to us." Her throat feels constricted, as if all the things she's been holding back are itching to get out in the open.

He's a bit angry at her outburst, mostly because it's very unladylike. In fact, it's very unSelina-like. "Eh, calm down. What exactly making you so upset, hmm?"

She closes her eyes, afraid of what will tumble forth. "Benoit . . . We escaped a terrible life. Before we settled here we were traveling, mostly in Europe. And I thought we had moved past all the demons." Looking up at him, she smiles sadly and sees his own sympathetic face. "Benoit, he tries so hard to stay in the past. And I don't know why because there was nothing there. For either of us.

"I don't want to care for him, but I do. All my life I dedicated myself to be the strongest I could be, that I would never succumb to my weaknesses. The fact that Bru – Henry is giving up so easily makes me want to . . ." Frustrated, Selina runs her hand through her hair and sighs.

"You love him," Benoit states.

"Of course I do," responds Selina. She takes a generous gulp from her glass. "That's why it's so much harder."

Benoit gazes at her and whispers, "_Ma chérie_. Sometimes the truest test of life comes when you want it least. Do not quit yet," he advises.

Selina snorts. "If there's one thing you should know about me it's this: I never quit. I might take some time off and reconsider my options, but I have never quit."

"You sound as if you will," Benoit retorts.

"You sound as if you know me."

"Ah, but I do." Selina rolls her eyes. "Do not be so rash, Selina. He needs you the most now. Be gentle with him."

She groans. "Benoit, I have been nothing but gentle with him. I'm running out of patience. I've exhausted every single idea I've ever come up with. I've tried being nice, romantic, supportive, and in the end it's a great big waste."

He shakes his head. "Selina, he appreciates all you done for him. Honest. Give it time."

But she's already given so much of her time away. Selina isn't prepared to lose more of it anytime soon.

* * *

She spends a good four hours roaming the streets of Paris with a bottle of vodka she nicked from Benoit's. By the time Selina gets back to their apartment, it's eleven at night and weird people are prowling the streets. The front door is unlocked, and to her surprise all the lights are on. Is Bruce really awake?

After a quick search, Selina finds him sleeping. Again. Her heart races and _now_ she's pissed. She rests the vodka bottle on their dresser, and opens the light before loudly walking over to Bruce. "Rise and shine, sweetheart!"

His eyes crack open for a second before shutting. Either he's ignoring her or he really is too sleepy to wake up. She's on a roll, though, so Selina roughly shakes him on the shoulder. "Get up."

Bruce finally gets out of his daze and stares at her. The blanket is tightly wrapped around him. He doesn't budge. "I said, get the fuck up," Selina hisses out. She rips the blanket away from him, and nearly falls down because of her drunk behind.

He sits up, surprised that she's drunk and at her outburst. "What are you doing?"

"What am I doing? What are _you _doing, Mr. Wayne?" Selina stands over him and sneers. "You dragged me out of Gotham, took me to two continents, and practically tell me everything will be alright. But you're a sleazy motherfucker, you know that? You lied."

"Selina," he begins, his arms reaching out towards her, "I really think we should talk about this tomo –"

"No! We are not talking about this tomorrow. I want to talk about this now!" she nearly shouts.

She can tell Bruce can't stand her like this, but he relents. "By all means, continue." He crosses his arms and watches her.

"Oh, look at you, being all high and mighty. You've always been the rich bastard you pretended to be, Bruce. You're all the same. You all lie and lie and all this other shit," she rambles.

He looks around the room. "Selina, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Honestly, Selina has no idea what she's talking about either. She continues anyway. She just needs a way to express her anger and frustration. "All those months ago you made me promise not to make you empty and some other poetic shit. I held up my end of the bargain. What happened to yours?"

His eyes fall down, embarrassed. "I tried. I really did."

Scoffing, Selina says sarcastically, "Really."

Bruce's jaw tightens. "Yes, really. You don't know the personal hell I've been living my entire life –"

"Oh, _I_ don't know what you've been living through? Fucking great," she laughs out, throwing her hands in the air. "Please tell me how your life was infinitely much worse than mine. Please tell me, you poor little billionaire playboy asshat." She's feeling mean and reckless, but this is the most adrenaline she's had in a long time.

Bruce swallows. "I'm sorry," he apologizes softly. "I misspoke."

It's silent for a second. "I cook for you, clean, try to make you happy and all I get in return is a useless dick and you sleeping every single day. I did not sign up for this," she spews out. "How could you not be happy?"

"I am happy, Selina."

"Please tell me exactly how you're happy."

Sighing, he puts his face in his hands. After a minute he looks up at her. "Selina, you have been absolutely wonderful to me. I'm just having a hard time adjusting."

Once again, she throws her hands in the air. "How could you have a hard time adjusting?!" she roars out. "What is there to adjust to?! A newer, better life? If you looked around, you pathetic piece of shit, you could see that everything is absolutely perfect! And better!"

Bruce has had enough. "I don't know how to, Selina! All my life I've lived under a Goddamn shadow, and now I don't know what the fuck I should do with my freedom!" Selina blinks rapidly at his swearing. He stands up and she's forced to take a step back, his eyes flaming. "Everything I ever had in my life has always been taken away. What makes this any different?"

"Then what is taking you so long to realize _this is it_? That this is everything you dreamed for? That I dreamed for? I dreamed for a life like this, a life with someone like you, and you've ripped it to shreds!" She screams the last part, and her resolve breaks. Tears fall down at an ungodly rate, something she can't control. Why can't he realize she and Bruce are together now? Everything they have to go through is no longer an _I_ problem, it's a _we_ problem. Why won't he let her in? Why won't he let life in?

His face crumbles once he sees her tears. Almost immediately, his own eyes well up as he tries to contain himself. "Oh Selina, all I ever want for you is to be content." Bruce takes a step forward, but she takes two steps back. She can't handle his touch right now. "And I'm sorry I'm not doing a good job of it."

The tears continue to flow, but now they're angry tears. Fuck him. "Are you quitting? Just giving up, like that?"

"No –"

"Because I can leave. I don't owe you anything anymore."

The room is silent. The entire building is silent. Bruce swallows thickly and peers at her sadly. "I know."

She hates that he knows and understands she has the ability to leave. Selina doesn't want to leave. At all. But she takes forty steps back right out the front door, and maybe a lifetime of regrets hanging over her shoulders, and easily walks right out of their dream.

She loathes it but it's the only way.

* * *

Selina hasn't come in for the past two days. He doesn't know if he should look for her or let her be. He's not sure what to do at all. Regardless, Bruce continues to go to Benoit's and steadfastly ignores his questions. On the third day, he walks into the apartment and sees everything gone.

It really is over.

* * *

Manhattan reminds her too much of Gotham, but once she gets a good look at the bustling city and everyone's busy lives, she realizes even if it seems too similar to Gotham, at least no one knows her here. She's been here for five months already; to her it seems like a lifetime. There are four other girls living in her apartment, and all happen to be friends from college. Two are law students, one an accountant and another who jumps from job to job.

The rent is ridiculously expensive, which is why she's rooming with these girls who wonder why Selina hardly hangs out with them, let alone utter a word. She likes it when they chat with one another, though. It makes her feel less lonely.

Everything Selina got from her travels with Bruce is still in two suitcases. She rarely opens it, because it reminds her of a time full of happiness and sadness, something she can't take right now. And of course, the pearls are safely tucked away. She seriously debated leaving the necklace because she knows how important it is to Bruce. The fact that she kept is shows she wants him to come back.

She still takes photographs and sells them online, but it's meaningless. Her bones and mind are continuously antsy, so the only way Selina can calm herself down is when she travels anywhere and snaps a photo. As of late, she's been taking the train and going near the Appalachia Mountains, sometimes spending several hours just lying on the mountains and watching the scenery from below. She thinks and other times she doesn't. In the end, Selina is alone and empty.

It's funny how Selina basically lived her life like this, hollow and shit, but now it is simply insufficient. Although she was constantly on the run, she was a lost soul. And in a matter of nearly three years, Bruce Wayne has completely fucked her life. She knows what it feels like to love and laugh, but it's all been yanked away from her. A piece of her has been ripped out, and she would do anything to get it back.

Selina wishes she and Bruce could have talked about their problems in a mature manner before she ran off. Bruce was scared of having something so good in his life, which she understands completely (sort of). Once again, he had everything to lose. But the worst part was that he didn't realize nothing was endangering their life, and instead he opted to back out because it was easier.

She tried. She really did. Selina has never been the patient, caring type. Speed and efficiency works best for her. So to slow herself down, watch and fail repeatedly was too much for her to handle. One thing needs to be cleared up, however: Selina never gave up on Bruce. She's just giving him time to sort things out.

If he doesn't come back in the next five, ten, twenty years, Selina won't be mad. He'll probably still find a way to work himself out. And if it means she won't be in his life, that's OK. At least he will be truly happy.

See, Selina has never been the selfish type. You've been wrong about her the entire time, haven't you?

* * *

During the day, the roommates go to work – or in Adriana's case, try to find work – and Selina is left to her own devices. Today, she's going to get another camera lens (a very expensive one, mind you), and hopefully take better pictures of the mountains when she visits next time. Selina grabs her handbag and camera, and of course slips her heels on as she heads out to the door. But when she opens it, a bucket of ice washes down her body and she can't breathe.

He's here. That little . . . _fucker_ is here.

She really can't think of another adjective to describe him. She's equal parts relieved, ecstatic, and pissed. After a second of wide-eyed staring, Selina takes a long peek at Bruce. Shockingly, he looks good. Maybe he's been overfed by someone (hopefully not another girl), but his face isn't as gaunt as it once was. His hair is shorter, and there's a warm color on his face. And in a split second, Selina is back to loving him unconditionally and wanting to kiss him senseless.

Several seconds pass. Maybe several hours pass, she has no clue. Soon enough, Selina opens her mouth and asks, "What do you want?"

He blinks and takes a deep breath. Her heart is beating painfully under her ribs; she crosses her arms to stifle the pounding. Bruce gives a shy laugh and says, "You look great."

This is going off to a good start. "So you traveled nearly 3,000 miles to tell me I look great," Selina deadpans. She doesn't want to appear to giddy and feel too hopeful. For all she knows, Bruce could be here to tell her he doesn't need her anymore.

"Well, no. Yes. Maybe. I don't know," Bruce answers nervously. His eyes flash in fear for a quick second before he stuffs his hands in his coat pockets. He glances down at his shoes, then back at Selina. She waits.

She can't take this right now. "Bruce, come back when you have a real explanation to give me." Selina begins to shut the door, when suddenly his foot stops the door from closing. Selina rolls her neck in agitation and glares at him. "I said you could come back later when you have something to say. Move your foot," she states calmly.

"No," he responds lowly.

It's there, that look. The look of passion and fulfillment. In that one instant, Selina realizes Bruce is a changed man. He became a stronger Batman, and now he has changed Bruce. The Real Bruce is finally here. Without her consent, her heart swells. "What do you want?" she asks again, much more softly than before.

He swallows and takes another deep breath. "I want . . . I want you, Selina. I want what you gave me – happiness. I want to spend every day not caring about tomorrow, and especially not caring about yesterday." Her grip on the door loosens, and Bruce takes advantage of it. Slowly and methodically, he opens the door all the way and stands in his full glory. "I know I wasn't . . . willing to move on. But I was simply afraid of losing you, losing everything. It was a foolish thought which ruined us. And I want you to know, even though I have much more to lose once again, I will do _anything_ to get you back," he whispers. "You're worth the risk.

"I love you, Selina, and I promise to make up for it no matter what."

How do you know when you've forgiven someone?

It all starts when you've grown up. When you realize enough is enough, when you've surpassed the period in your life where you only thought about yourself. It's when you make up for your mistakes by helping another realize their faults. It's when you try to put the pieces together, not by yourself but with the person you love. It's when you give up a part of you to someone and never get it back.

And when you witness all your efforts have paid off, _that_ is when you realize you've forgiven them. Because no one can truly stand alone in the world. It's impossible. But when you stand by their side, through thick and thin, and you notice how they've pulled themselves up because of _your_ efforts, that is the moment in time where everything just clicks. It's because you see how both of you work together.

You see, Selina's life equation was missing one more variable. Once you get the second, it becomes a long and hard process to get rid of the other one. Bruce is her second variable, and through his emotional depression and five months without hearing a peep, he's back and ready to fight. The fact that he's willing to throw caution in the wind let's Selina know, yes, Bruce is hers and she is his.

All of this? It was a test. It's over now. But you see that over there? Way out in the future? That is life. A shining, brand new life with no regrets and no empty promises and honesty.

They've made it, and there will be no other moment in life where Selina will be this happy every again.


End file.
